Chapter 46: The Orks of Istvaan V
On Istvaan V, Horus lay flat on his bed in the darkened chamber. The whispers in his ears had grown quieter since his strength returned. Perhaps the corruption was finally stabilizing.
When he thought of Fulgrim and Angron, doubt crept into his mind. Chaos couldn't be trusted. Even his brothers had changed beyond recognition. He could only rely on his own power now.
His face twisted with sudden fury. If he encountered Erebus of the Word Bearers again, he would peel the skin from that manipulator's skull.
If he ranked the people he hated most, Erebus would come before Francis. After days of reflection, he admitted Francis possessed excellent military strategy. Everything Francis had done served the Imperium's interests. Without the betrayal, the man might have fought beside him as a valuable ally.
Bang, bang, bang.
The knocking came with perfect rhythm. Each rap neither too loud nor too soft.
"Enter!" Horus called.
The door swung open. White light swept in from the corridor, carrying the scent of engine oil with it.
"We have completed inspection of the Vengeful Spirit," a Tech-Priest in blood-red robes spoke quietly. "The machine-spirit remains stable. The vessel is ready to sail."
"Good," Horus acknowledged.
The Tech-Priest withdrew without further words.
Rumble!
The deck plates vibrated violently. Even Horus's chamber bounced up and down. But the Warmaster remained on his bed.
Abaddon burst through the door, panting. "It's bad, Warmaster! Something has happened!"
Horus looked calmly toward the entrance. He could see Abaddon's power armor bore more vicious spikes than usual. The corrupt scent of Chaos clung to his First Captain like a second skin. Horus frowned.
"Abaddon, calm yourself. As First Captain of the Sons of Horus, you should show more composure. No enemy exists that we cannot face."
Abaddon's eyes widened at the rebuke. He forced his breathing to slow. "Understood, Warmaster. An Ork warship just fell from orbit."
"It struck our Vengeful Spirit directly. The defensive barriers were down during repairs."
"The hull has been breached. Billions of Orks are pouring out. They've even brought Ork Titans."
"There's a massive Ork inside that speaks Gothic!" Abaddon finished.
Horus bolted upright, his face darkening. "Why are you speaking so slowly! Tell me we're going out to fight!"
The Warmaster launched himself from the bed and rushed outside, leaving Abaddon muttering, "Didn't you just tell me to be more composed?"
Horus emerged to see an oversized grenade-shaped Ork warship with two mechanical arms embedded deep in the Vengeful Spirit's hull. His father had given him that Gloriana-class battleship!
His heart bled at the sight. He gritted his teeth and roared, "Beasts!"
Ork Boyz poured from the wreckage, letting out deafening war cries as they charged the Sons of Horus like rabid animals.
"Roar, roar, roar!"
Their attacks came wild and fierce. Each weapon swing buzzed through the air. The Sons of Horus answered with their own battle cry: "For the Warmaster!"
Boltgun fire echoed across the battlefield. Deadly mass-reactive rounds rained down on the Ork Boyz. But the greenskins felt no pain. They charged forward without hesitation.
Chainswords revved to life among the Sons of Horus ranks. Each slash sent flesh and blood flying.
Horus leaped into the fray and brought his talon-tipped hammer down toward an Ork's skull!
Near the Conqueror, a ten-meter-tall Ork stood before a squad of World Eaters.
"I am Francis, and I'm here to remove Angron's nails. Stand aside!" the massive greenskin announced.
"You won't fool us, you cunning Ork!" a World Eater shouted back.
"For the Primarch, charge!"
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!" they roared.
A squad of World Eaters in Mark II power armor hefted their chainaxes and charged. A ten-meter Ork had appeared claiming it could cure their Primarch? Who would believe this Ork Boss was actually Francis? Only a fool would fall for such deception!
"Blood for the Blood God? Skulls for the Skull Throne?" Francis kept muttering, exasperated. "Good, good, good! You like being dogs for a dog!"
"Today, I will pull every nail from your heads!" Francis declared.
Before Francis could grab the World Eaters and extract their nails one by one, another Ork appeared beside him. Its waist and back bulged with loot snatched from Gretchin, stuffed into a massive toothed bag.
"Boss, ain't you gonna remove them nails? I got good stuff that's guaranteed to work!" The scavenging Ork, Gul'dan, kept fidgeting while eyeing Francis's teeth.
"Were you licked by a Gretchin? If you've got something to say, spit it out!" Francis kicked him while casually swatting away a charging World Eater.
"Ouch, Boss, be gentle! Give me a tooth, and I'll give it to ya," Gul'dan scurried closer, grinning foolishly at Francis.
Francis snapped off a large tooth and shoved it into Gul'dan's hands.
Gul'dan held the head-sized tooth with both arms, rubbing it against his face. "Boss's tooth, hahahaha! So stinky! Hahahaha!" Then he licked it. "So fragrant!"
Gul'dan carefully pulled a ram's head hammer from his backpack and offered it to Francis. "Boss, this is good treasure I accidentally found while scavenging in space. Only charging you one big tooth. It's really—"
Before he could finish, all of Istvaan V heard a piercing scream.
Even the charging World Eaters hugged their chainaxes and stepped back, swallowing hard.
Francis hefted the ram's head hammer, tossing it between his hands. "Come on, World Eaters. Today is therapy day."
"Waaaaaagh!"
Francis's high-pitched war cry summoned countless Ork Boyz from every direction. Their eyes glowed green as they stared at the World Eaters and shouted, "Waaaaaagh!"
"Lads! Loot them all, don't leave a single hair on their heads!" Francis commanded.
"They're afraid of having their nails pulled. Charge!"
The Ork Boyz' eyes darted around before they started chuckling.
In moments, they assembled bouncy castles, anti-gravity launchers, and gliders.
Duang'er, duang'er, duang'er.
"Yee-haw! Waaaaaagh!"
Countless Orks launched themselves through the air, soaring over the World Eaters' heads to grab their nails and swing them around wildly.
The unfortunate World Eaters clutched desperately at their Butcher's Nails, roaring, "Blood for the Bloo... Big brother, don't pull, don't pull, I can't take it anymore!"
"Big brother, don't pull, don't pull, I can't take it anymore!"
Francis watched the chaotic aerial battle - Orks flying everywhere while World Eaters got yanked around by their neural implants. He stroked his chin and walked steadily toward Angron's location, muttering, "How can they be so brutal! I can't even watch!"
The airborne Ork Boyz occasionally crashed into cannon barrels. With a boom, both vehicle and rider vanished.
Along the way, Francis encountered more World Eaters. With his miraculous touch, he pulled the nails from their heads. Afterward, they squatted on the ground motionless, looking oddly content.
Outside Angron's chamber, Khârn, Captain of the 8th Assault Company, sat silently in a corner wearing red and yellow striped Mark II power armor. He held a chainsword across his knees.
"You seem strong to break through our defenses and reach this place," Khârn said.
"Unfortunately, this is where your journey ends, Ork. I, Khârn, Captain of the Eighth Company of the World Eaters, will end your path and offer your skull to the Blood God!"
[End of Chapter]